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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917290">A Singular Shade of Crimson</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura'>misura</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Emma (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/M, Identity Reveal, Mild Kink, Sky Pirates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:41:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,305</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I believe I may be forgiven for not suspecting for a moment that the fabled sky-pirate known as the Crimson Blade is, in fact, none other than Miss Emma Woodhouse, whom I have known since she was but a girl," said Knightley.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>George Knightley/Emma Woodhouse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Yuletide Madness 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Singular Shade of Crimson</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/anabel/gifts">anabel</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>you lost me at 'sky pirates', oops?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Knightley stared and said, "You are - " and Emma tossed back her hair, done up in a way any hairdresser in London could only dream of imitating, and said, "I do not know, sir, why this should surprise you," which was (a) blatantly unfair and therefore (b) wholly like Emma.</p><p>"I believe I may be forgiven for not suspecting for a moment that the fabled sky-pirate known as the Crimson Blade is, in fact, none other than Miss Emma Woodhouse, whom I have known since she was but a girl," said Knightley.</p><p>"Do you?" Emma said, twirling in a way that showed off her extremely stylish cape. It was crimson, of course - almost, yet not quite, the same shade of crimson as that worn by -</p><p>"Mrs Goddard." Knightley groaned.</p><p>Emma smiled. "There. You see, sir, you are not so slow-witted as that after all."</p><p>"You misjudge me," Knightley said, trying to wholly wrap his mind about the idea, the notion of Highbury being not merely home to sheep and farms and Ford's, but also a nest of pirates - albeit rather well-behaved and extremely attractive pirates.</p><p>He wondered, suddenly, if Robert Martin knew, had but the least notion of whom he had sought to wed.</p><p>"Is that it?" Emma said. " 'I misjudge you'?"</p><p>"Well, it's a bit of a shock," Knightley said. He remembered, in exquisite and excruciating detail, the sensation of drawing his blade against her, the moment's temptation of simply pulling out his pistol and be done with it, as pirates could not be considered worthy of a gentleman's blade.</p><p>In all likeliness, he ought to consider himself fortunate she had disarmed him so quickly and decisively, by her blade as much as by her revelation.</p><p>"Did you not tell me yourself that compared to others of their ilk, the Crimson Crew must be considered better than most, and far more discerning in their choice of prey?" Emma asked, sounding, of all things, wounded, as if she had not just bested him in a duel as easily as if he had been a mere novice and she a master in the prime of her years.</p><p>"I believe I used the word 'victim'," Knightley said, which was the wrong to say, and yet he could not seem to help himself.</p><p>"Well." Emma tossed back her hair again, prompting Knightley to imagine what it might feel like, to run his hands through it, to undo all of the hard work that had gone into putting it up, to feel the sensation of Emma's skin under his hands as he cupped her face and -</p><p>"Emma," he said. "You cannot - " though evidently she could; the Crimson Blade had been active for <i>years</i>, untouchable, uncatchable, untraceable. None who witnessed the crew's exploits survived - supposedly. Knightley suspected the Crimson Blade's body count might be somewhat exaggerated.</p><p>Certainly, he was unable to picture Emma cold-bloodedly killing anyone.</p><p>"I believe, sir, you are hardly in any position to inform me what I can or cannot do," Emma said, her tone cool and her expression stern, and Knightley wanted to get down on his knees and humbly beg her to tell him how he might win her favor.</p><p>What he said instead was, "I judge it highly unlikely that you would do me any harm."</p><p>"How kind of you," Emma said. "How flattered I am. Oh, but I forget, you disapprove of people flattering me, do you not? How incautious you should indulge in it yourself, sir."</p><p>Knightley swallowed his first reply, and then his second, and neither anger nor submission would do him any good. "Emma. If I am able to discover your true identity, then so will others. You are putting yourself and all you care about in mortal peril. You must see that."</p><p>It would be a massive scandal, and all of Highbury would be dragged along in it, from high to low.</p><p>Emma laughed. Knightley realized he wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her very badly. "Now you flatter yourself, sir, for your discovered nothing. I <i>chose</i> to reveal my identity to you, as I may choose to reveal or conceal it from others, as I will. Unless you mean me to believe that you will give away my secret, in which event you are not the man I always judged you to be."</p><p>"A hopeless fool?" Knightley closed his eyes. She had the right of it, of course. He could not, would not tell. It would be monstrous. He would never be able to live with himself, after. "Why tell me at all?"</p><p>Emma shrugged. "We are friends, are we not? And I did not wish to see you get hurt."</p><p>"Considerate as ever," Knightley said, half-sarcastic and half not, because he was able to trace the impulse, the reasoning, and there was indeed a kindness at the root of it, a concern, as a sister might feel for a brother, or a friend for a friend.</p><p>"I do confess, your response thus far has been a disappointment," Emma said.</p><p>"What had you hoped for - approval? Admiration?" Knightley grimaced. "Adoration?" He had seen her stumble at least once; she might well be hurt, and wearied, and longing for the privacy of a bath, of helpful hands to get her out of her clothes.</p><p>"Something like that," Emma said without so much as a blush. Then again, in the poor light and with half her face still hidden by the mask, it would be hard to tell.</p><p>"I am sorry to disappoint you, yet surely you must be long used to it by now," Knightley said.</p><p>"No matter," Emma said. "If I cannot have the company of a friend tonight, I suppose I might settle instead for the satisfaction of a prisoner, whose every breath is dependent upon my mercy. Shall that please you better, sir?"</p><p>Knightley realized he was perilously close to embarrassing himself. He told himself it was ridiculous: no gentleman would willingly put up with such treatment - the rub, naturally, laying in the word 'willingly'.</p><p>"It would seem my life is indeed in your hands," he said. He considered the state of his trousers; they had become somewhat dirtied already during the fighting and so would hardly suffer from a brief exposure to the ground at the knees. "If I must beg for my life, know that I have very little compunction to do so, for it is indeed a most precious thing to me, not the least for those I share it with."</p><p>"I believe I should like it very well indeed to hear you beg," Emma said, standing tall and straight and regal, and Knightley wished to kiss the tip of her boots and promise her anything she wanted that was in his power to give. "Though I do confess, sir, I had hardly taken you for the sort of man to give up his pride as easily as that."</p><p>"Not easily," Knightley said. He wanted to add, <i>'nothing with you is ever easy,'</i> but instead, he indulged himself by touching his lips to a part of her boots yet untouched by dirt, equally parts surprised and pleased to hear her gasp softly, as if she had not expected it after all.</p><p>He would have risen, then, but for her hand coming to rest on his head, softly and gently and with a hesitancy that made it hard indeed to regret his decision.</p><p>She moved her hand and said, "Come, then," walking away without even looking back, and he wanted to tell her that was no way to treat a prisoner; he might have done anything, escaped, or tried to run her through from behind; it was irresponsible, incautious and unwise.</p><p>He rose and followed her instead, feeling as if he lost a little more of his common sense with every step.</p>
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